While still in college, I would make desserts incessantly, sometimes two to three times a week. I loved it; the apartment always smelled heavenly, there was always a midnight snack available, and sugar everywhere. There were successful projects (anything involving cheesecake), and oven explosions (I’m looking at you, overflowing buckwheat banana cake), but whatever occurred, it always made me feel at peace, because whenever I’m cooking, I’m home.
And then cue graduation, working life, waking up at 7am, staying late until 1am, and fitting in a social life, and I scarcely had time to even cook dinner, let alone desserts. The passion persisted; the work-life balance did not.
But as of late, I am attempting to resurrect my dessert days, simply because I loved them and am not ready to give them up quite yet. In the past four months, I have received three new cookbooks that I read from cover-to-cover instead of analyzing store reports, and I realised how much I miss pastry. So once a week at least, I am determined to make something from these books and nom hard. It may be operose at times, but it will be worth it.
Pastry is good for my soul, but it’s better for your stomach.